Axis Destiny
by The Ancient Banner
Summary: The taken have proven to be a significant threat to the Grand Design of the Vex. Now the Vex collective hive mind is initiating certain events to eliminate this threat to the Design. Meanwhile, or consequently, four alien beings converge on the world of Remnant and its unique heroes and villains, where they will find a world so different than they could ever imagine.
1. Chapter 1, The Fallen Pirate

Roriks was crouching behind the treeline, looking at the centurion in the middle of the clearing. The centurion had his back turned to Roriks, and was unaware of his presence. Roriks thought about attacking him. It would be best for him, as the centurion could accidentally find him and call for back-up. He couldn't sneak forever through what he believed to be one of their "exclusion zones".

Yes, he would kill him, yes. Kill the centurion. Run at him, stab him in a weak spot, let the pressure escape out of his suit, and the cabal would be dead real quick. After that, take anything of value, and find his base. Steal a ship and get back to the Reef, hopefully without much trouble.

Roriks checked his shields and readied his sabers, the feeling of the leather covering the grip familiar to the claw. How many had he not slashed aside to get where he was today, how far had he not come with what he could get in his hands. Maybe his sabers would get him back to the reef again, where his new, rich and glorious life was awaiting him. A pinge of doubt stung him for a moment at the thought, but he quickly squashed the feeling. The centurion had to die first.

Roriks readied his legs, and with a leap he burst from the bushes, charging the unaware centurion with his saber raised high. Unfortuntately, the centurion was instantly notified of the incoming attack, and he turned around to counter the threat.

The centurion faced the fallen captain head-on. He counter charged Roriks, blunting the enemy attack. The centurion quickly followed up with an overhead strike on the head, attempting to exploit his strenght advantage as much as possible.

Roriks stumbled back from the hit to the head, and he instinctively teleported to the side. With a sleight of hand Roriks swapped his sabers out for his shrapnel gun, and unloaded it on the centurion.

The centurion however was heavily shielded, so the molten slag did little more than annoy the centurion. The centurion responded in kind with a barrage of explosive rounds. Roriks took heavy hits and, under the cover of the dust and and smoke created by the bombardement, he quickly teleported away back behind the treeline.

Roriks appeared behind the trees, and he immediately fell to his knees, a sharp pain stinging up his back. He shouldn't have teleported in such quick succession. Roriks took a look at the power pack on his back. It was fried, signified by the sparks coming off it. Roriks grew worried. From now on he couldn't recharge his shock cores and shields anymore, so he better conserve what arc-charge he had left now. Especially his lack of shields was going to be a problem. He would have to rely far more on his stealth and wits from now on.

Roriks refilled his shrapnel gun with the last cannisters he had left and looked over the bushes. The centurion was still firing at his former location, this time from on top of the ridge. Where he had stood just moments before was now a no-man's land. He could see the earth being thrown up by the impacting rounds and the grass being burned by the high-explosives.

Roriks thought about what he would do now. There was no way now that he could defeat the centurion. After all, He had lost the element of surprise, which was supposed to make up for his inferior strenght and lack of adequate firepower. Fighting was out of the option.

Roriks slumped against a tree and began thinking. Roriks thought about fleeing. He could run, it would be easy to hide in a forest such as this one, but what then? The centurion would alert his brothers of his presence, which would make it a lot harder to steal one of their ships, or to even get into their bases. Furthermore, they would kill him _on sight_ , if this was one of their "exclusion zones". In fact, they would relentlessly pursue him if he was really in their exclusion zone.

So, if he couldn't fight, if he couldn't flee, what would be left to do was to either die or...

"Surrender..."

Roriks started thinking about it. Yes, he could surrender. Wave a flag and hope they would capture him. That way, he would be taken to their camp, where he maybe could steal a ship and get back home, or at least live just a bit longer. After all, if he fought them they would kill him, if he ran from them he would most likely be too busy hiding to escape, which would be his death through asphyxation. But if he surrendered they would try to keep him alive, in a cell. He would at least be alive, hopefully long enough to have a chance at escaping.

Roriks ripped a large piece of green cloth off his cape, and bound it to a thick branch he found laying next to him, the sounds of bombardement still in the background. His cape, the pride of a captain, the pride of his new patron. A green banner with a white sigil. The sigil of an ancient house, a rising house. Roriks laughed wrily. He was already ripping his honor to shreds for survival. Dreg strenght indeed. Roriks inspected his flag. It was mostly green, but a few lines of white in the far upper left.

Roriks crawled back to the bush, and peeked over it. He saw the last few shots landing on the field. Roriks saw the centurion standing at the top of the ridge, standing there for a short moment before retreating behind the top of the ridge. This was his chance. Now he could come out and wave his flag.

Roriks moved to step out of the bush but he held his feet. What if the cabal would just shoot him. He couldn't take a few hits like before anymore, he would be blasted to bits if they shot him. Do the Cabal take prisoners? What could Roriks possibly offer them for his survival? Would the Cabal even recognise his attempt at surrender?

Roriks looked at the flag in his hand. It looked pathetic. He felt pathetic. For hesitating. Hesitation could get you killed, either by the enemy or by your captain. It has been a long time ago since he was a lowly dreg. He did not fear death, because there was nothing worse than being a dreg. Now he was a captain, and now he feared death, because he had so much to lose. Or did he?

He was alone, his crew most likely dead by now. If he got back, what then? He lost his crew, his skiff, everything. All he had left was the banner he had torn, the equipment he broke and his own wits. He had left his crew behind, deep inside that cursed asteroid. What would Elder Variks think of him? Roriks desperately searched for an excuse to survive, anything to allow himself to fight to live another day.

"I am a marvel with ten thousand arms."

The words echoed through his head, in this dark moment of his. The story of how even the lowest may ascend. How a kell may have everything taken from him, and how the dreg may regrow his arms.

Maybe he lost his arms that day. And today he would grow his first arm back.

Roriks gripped the tattered flag tighter, and stepped out into the open, choosing to stand on top of the spot the centurion had bombarded with explosives. He would do anything to survive, to one day be that marvel with ten thousands arms. He was willing to dock and regrow his arms countless times for that. As long as he just survived, he would get there. Dreg strenght indeed.

Roriks looked around him, while holding his flag as high as he could. No sign of the cabal yet. Maybe there was a bigger threat somewhere else. Roriks stepped closer to the cliff, marveling in how it was bigger than him. He supposed he could walk away right now and continue his original pla-

But before Roriks could finish his thought he heard the sounds of a cabal jump-jet flying overhead. The centurion had seemingly decided to fly over him to land right behind him. Roriks quickly put his hands and flag in the air and turned away from the centurion to look less of a threat. The centurion aimed his projection rifle at Roriks and spoke in a deep, raspy voice.

"Drop your weapons and flag. Do exactly as I say or you will be neutralised."

Roriks was surprised. The centurion spoke Human. Why he didn't know, but it was a pleasant surprise. Now he could try to influence the brute to his advantage. It would have been even more ideal if it spoke Eliksni, but he guessed he could talk back in Human.

Roriks dropped his flag and weapons. His visual weapons that were. He kept the concealed shock daggers and pistols underneath his "decorative" strips of cloth. If things went awry, he could at least try to distract him and run past the centurion.

"State your allegiance, rank and purpose in this area."

Roriks smirked. All was going better than expected. Roriks had it all planned out now. Offer himself as an "informant" with this cabal as liaison. Be taken into their camp. Then steal a ship from their camp. He would have to find out how to pilot their ships though, maybe simply ask one of those dumb brutes. Anyway, no matter how bleak, he would find a way.

First things first though, the centurion. He would have to respond in his best Human, as he had learned shuffling boxes for the awoken.

"Eliksni, House Judgement. Captain, reaver-class. My purpose here, is to survive, yes?"

The centurion didn't move, most likely thinking about what Roriks had said. Roriks grew worried. He had hoped he would take him back to his base for further questioning. If this centurion either got all the information he wanted right here or he would think that he did not have any information of value, then he might kill him right here. Roriks had to give him only little bits of information, to entice him to take him back for further questioning.

"Elaborate. Why are you surviving here? Are there any others with you? Why did you surrender?"

"I fled from battle. Lost my crew to the vex. Surrendered as it was my best chance at survival."

Roriks grew tense. He knew the centurion stood right behind him. At any moment the centurion could decide to pull the trigger. If things turned for the worse, Roriks wouldn't come out on top without a scratch.

Then he spoke again, but he raised his voice and he spoke at a higher pace. This worried the Eliksni only more, but in a different way.

"Where did you fight? Why did you engage the vex? How did you get away?"

"I fought in the Reef. We were ambushed. I left crew behind, fled into Vex portal."

An alarming, yet interesting thought went through Roriks's head. The centurion sounded and looked afraid at the mere mention of the vex. What if this centurion was alone? What if his crew was dead? That would explain the absence of legionaries and the centurion's obvious paranoia.

But if that was true, then there was no guarantee that he could get to their camp to find a way back to the Reef. In fact, they would be in a far more desperate situation. Both of them stranded in some unknown location.

Roriks was sure the centurion was panicking now. the centurion spoke even faster now, and with a certain urgency in his voice.

"Where are they? Where are the Vex? What happe-"

But before the centurion could finish his sentence, a yell could be heard in the distance. A human yell. And a high-pitched one at that.

 **Author's note:**

 **If you are going to review it, please be very critical. I know I made some mistakes, and I want my story to eventually reach its full potential. So please, be critical. :)**


	2. Chapter 2, The Cabal Officier

And it was indeed a high-pitched voice that interupted the two extraterrestrials. It was very faint but clear amidst the silence of the forest, innocent was what was said, almost childlike was the question that was asked.

"Hello? Anybody there? Is there someone out there? In need of help? Just give us a sign or something. So we can find you."

"Ruby you dunce, stop yelling like that."

Both the captain and the centurion stood rigid like statues, vaguely thinking that the voices weren't real, or maybe even that the oh-so-well known source would just disappear into forgetful oblivion if they pretended to not be there. But the cunning captain and the hardened Bracus knew better than that.

Trying his best to repress his stress, the centurion, named Tra'aurg, quickly activated his HUD, an influx of battlefield data flooding the sides of his screen. Out of the mess of windows and numbers, so familiar as to be rather cohesive to the experienced officier, Tra'aurg focused on the motion tracker.

The suit of the centurion was Imperial grade. Hardened against the toughest of concussions to protect this link in the chain of command, equipped with extensive sensor equipment to optimise tactical awareness, the suit combined with the excellent field aptitude of a Cabal officier would centralise a unit's combat effectiveness to the officier. As long as he was alive, a unit could keep fighting, until the last man. A vital heart protected by a hardened shell of disciplined legionaries and phalanxes.

It was a shame there was no shell, but the heart shall bear it, if it was up to Tra'aurg, a Bracus of the Blind legion, from the second cohort.

But even without the help of external electronics and the Cabal war net, Tra'aurg confirmed the presence of three enemies, at a distance of 100 yards, at an elevation of 50 meters. luckily, the trees blocked the enemies' sight over the clearing.

Tra'aurg enhanced the audio settings, trying to hear what the enemy might be planning, how they would approach the two. Slowly their conversation became eligible.

"...all...'m... aying is...that... it wouldn't do if he were to... eaten by a pack... beowolves just because we were careless in our, and I must say, impromptu search."

"But Weiss, how else are we supposed to find him? We've only heard some explosions, and I don't know whether he is hurt or how to find him and I haven't told proffesor Port that we went off to look for him instead of checking up on that generator and I don't know..."

Immediately a plan was forming inside the Centurion's mind. It was mostly out a force of habit though, as the centurion grit his teeth in despair at the thought of his opposition. Three guardians most likely, out on patrol, and they had been drawn to their location because of their battle. Furthermore the centurion knew that he was in no condition to fight, physically and mentally.

Tra'aurg slowed down his thoughts, slowly thinking more about the last few weeks of lone hardship than the most effective expenditure of ammo in this engagement or an approach that would give him a chance at survival.

Four weeks of constant combat he had been in now, two with the legion, clearing Vex ruins underground, and two on his own. Though two weeks of non-stop battle with the Vex in claustrophobic spaces had only worn down his mind slightly, two weeks of lone wandering through caves and eventually, this forest had pushed him nearer to the breaking point everyday.

The caves, terrible things he had seen, and felt and learned. Where he experienced not only constant battle fatigue and paranoia, but sights not meant for mortal eyes and something else that he wouldn't even dare think about. The most terrible experience in his life.

Tra'aurg was never prepared for this. He fought in units, in rigid formation and with clear orders. It was either hold the line and move up, or dying in a bunker or on the field. Not experiencing this, this crushing loneliness and paranoia. A lone cabal is supposed to be a dead one, not a live one trying to find his way back.

Could he even get back? The dishonor that could be, it disheartened him, for what else could a lone soldier being found by his people be recognised as but a deserter?

But he still had a duty to come back for and a promise of homecoming. What else was there for a Cabal to fight for but home? All of them fight for their home in their own way. He did it just to be home again, since a long while ago.

Tra'aurg bristled, turning his desperation into bloodlust. Yes he would fight them, and use that pirate scum as his skirmisher, at the pain of death, even though trusting his captive to fight along would be insane, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He will be home again, this was merely a more uphill battle than others.

But before Tra'aurg could speak about his plan the fallen captain spoke with a calm voice, still in the same position, his back turned towards the centurion and with his head held high. He spoke with hissing pauses, further cementing the Cabal's image of lowly Fallen pirates.

"The enemy is~ near. Bushes~ behind us~, good for hiding~. Hide there~, I will make fake tracks~, for guardians~ to follow. They will pass us~, we will be safe~. Meet me on this~ field~, when guardians~ are gone."

The centurion bristled at the notion, reprimanding his prisoner for his audacity and cowardice, he answered with a laconic "no". Roriks was shaken by the refusal and tried to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn't listen, and soon Roriks hastened his speech, quickly caring less for correct pronunciation and his image now that his plan was in grave danger.

"But hurry'there' s'little time, we will die, senseless death will follow, we cannot stand against them."

The centurion refused to budge, even while doubts started forming in his heart. But he wouldn't admit to this fallen scum, to take his advice, and not fight. He did not understand, wasn't it Obvious that the best approach is to always face problems head-on? Or find ways to do so head-on?

His plan had formed now. He would take a mobile firing position around this hill, moving away whenever the guardians moved into melee. He would counter intercepting guardians by having the captain use his noted teleporation to slow them down and cover him. He would focus fire on one guardian at a time, maybe move the captain and himself into an advantageous situation against a separated guardian when the chance arose. It was a sound plan, if one set aside the huge overall combat advantage the guardians had, and the fact that he was not used to such high-risk mobile combat in a restricted amount of ground.

"Centurion, we must make for cover! Soon I will have no chance for plan. Then we doomed. Get to that bush. Your plans will not work, no chance against their strenght!"

"We must fight! I have formed a plan. I will take a mobile firing position, I have the firepower. You will cover my maneuvers, while I wear them down. Exploit coöperative strikes on my signal."

"But we need not fight!"

The centurion was cut short, increasingly feeling the urge to answer the fallen's tardiness with violence, the same way he would usually answer insubordination. But Tra'aurg felt confused at the notion as well, trying to wrap his head around what the Fallen might imply. The captain quickly took the opportunity to explain his gambit.

"I have plan. We will follow them. Track them towards spacecraft. We will ambush them, I paralyze with trap I can make. We take their ships. I know a way. Then I drop you near your border, and go our separate ways."

Tra'aurg thought quickly. The enemy was near, and the scum offered an enticing alternative, which he couldn't fully grasp at the moment, proving his race's cunning. He hadn't thought of it. Though it did sound more effective, he was wary of him for that same cunning. He could see the dark spots in the plan where he could be betrayed, and he could imagine the ways he would betray him. But he shouldn't let prejudice, how sound it may be, come in the way. It would be a waste of this advantageous ground, but Tra'aurg felt the pirate's plan had even chances of succes and failure, resulting in certain death, while his plan tilted more towards failure because of overwhelming odds. So Tra'aurg, despite his instincts telling him not to, agreed with the plan, but added a few and maybe last words.

"But if you betray me, I will priortise you over the guardians. Understood?"

Roriks resisted the urge to nod like a grateful dreg, as befit him as a captain, and got to work, creating footprints by walking with heavy steps towards the right end of the clearing. Tra'aurg treaded as softly and quickly over the grass as he could towards the thick ground opposite of the cliff. Tra'aurg moved around a large rock further into the forest, as far away from the treeline as possible, but still with a view on the hilltop.

Tra'aurg sat down and waited, hidden between thick growth and the large rock, and on his HUD he pulled up tabs informing him of the status of the approaching guardians. They were almost here, just 20 paces from the treeline. He would have to trust the pirate, what clashed with his common sense, yet it was justified by the need for effective execution of their impromptu-agreed-to plan.

The Fallen had completed his ruse, having taken the effort to wipe his own and seemingly even the cabal's tracks as well. He saw the Fallen jumping over some bushes, without disturbing the growth, and he assumed the Fallen either crawled towards his position, as much out of the way of the guardian's predicted path. Now for the waiting game, just like before a field deployment he supposed, when one is hanging from the brace in a harvester transport. Yet in this case, if everything went right, no fighting was to be expected. "Strange," Tra'aurg noted.

He felt unlucky for having a red-black armor scheme. He hoped by moving further back into the forest the growth would compensate, but he kept his weapons ready in case it turned awry. He could use the rock for cover, but not for long, as he would have to move away when they assaulted his position.

The anticipation wore heavily on him. Danger was ahead, but he could not tackle it. He would have to remain in risk, yet not for any gain except for more time.

But before the bracus could grumble and complain further about his situation, he could hear the guardians arriving. Tra'aurg watched their estimated point of entry, listening in on their chatter, turning up the volume.

"Yes Ruby, all we need to do is to find out where we may find their trail, find it and follow it. It's called tracking, and it is a far better alternative to wandering about and yelling like we are looking for a lost pet."

"Yeah yeah, I get it Weiss, but you don't need to be so mean about it, you know."

"I am not being mean! I'm just putting my finger on your mistakes, to help you learn and to become a better leader. Also-"

"Hey guys, we're there. And I'm pretty sure this is where it all went down," Yang announced.

Yang guessed correctly that the clearing was the hotspot, judging from the large footprints, the disturbed earth and the burn marks on the ground. The three went further into the clearing, trying to make sense of what had transpired.

"I suppose the grimm surrounded him," Ruby mulled, " They cornered him on top of this hill, going by where those craters might have been made from, and then the huntsman... proceeded to blast the nasties into tiny bits with high-explosives! You see the spread of those scorch marks, and their intensity? Those have to be from high-quality guided explosive munitions! Those were obviously the result of precision barrages! Ohhh, maybe he had a rare *Dust spitfire model 1999*! I heard they were so rare and expensive and faulty that they had to be scrapped! But if he actually managed to make-"

"Stop goofing off you gun-nut! That is not what happened here! If he really was surrounded and if he really did repel them, than he wouldn't have left these footprints over here," Weiss said, pointing at the obviously inhuman footprints leading away from the center,"Also, where are *his* footprints? And those of the grimm he supposedly fought?"

Ruby shrugged. "Uhm, rocket jump and nevermores?"

Weiss facepalmed."Look, it doesn't matter. He is still somewhere, I think he fled into the forest, maybe because this grimm," as she pointed to the footprints," was much stronger than the rest. The battle might have erased some of the footprints of the involved, but that's not important now, because right now, I think he might very well be in danger. I think we should follow the trail and go after him this instant, of course after we inform proffesor Port."

As Ruby nodded and fumbled for her scroll, Tra'aurg took in as much about the enemy as he could. He could identify a standard guardian patrol group. One was a titan, going by the clothmark hanging from the hip. Another was a hunter, going by the hood she wore. And lastly, there was a warlock, if the cut-down robe was any indicator. Such noted task forces were only present in the vicinity of major troop concentrations or high priority targets. Judging from the local wildlife, which had depleted most of his energy and supplies, he would presume a textbook culling operation. Worst would be if it was Vex activity on this world what they were after, which he could testify to. He preferred he wouldn't encounter them again, and not out of cowardice he would like to stress.

Tra'aurg predicted that an engagement would be stacked against him in this situation. The warlock had a sword, a powerful melee weapon, Titans tend to close in as line infantry, and hunters usually outmaneuver, battling like skirmishers. Tra'aurg expected rush tactics in an engagement, with a central point man and two flankers. He did not have sufficient forces to mount a significant defense: it would just be an extermination.

If he still possessed the hill, he might have had more movement options, like a down hill retreat or access to the clifftop. Tra'aurg felt regret, but he knew it wouldn't matter, all he could do now is to trust this Fallen's gambit, and helplessly hope for the best. Needless to say, Tra'aurg wasn't satisfied current situation

It seemed the guardians were done reporting in and ready to move out, following the tracks further into the forest, but then, the blonde one noticed a discrepancy in the scene, one Tra'aurg had blindly hoped for to be overlooked.

"Uhm guys, I think we missed these footprints. They look pretty fresh too, and they're leading over... there."

Yang pointed her finger at where the large and round footprints started, and followed them with her finger all the way towards the edge of the forest, towards the rock where he was hiding.

The realisation struck Tra'aurg, it shook him awake and he was about to grab his weapon to initiate a pointless, but instinctive defense, but as he switched the safety of his weapon...

Four pistol shots rang through the air, coming from far in the distance, and the girls turned towards the north, to the clifftop. It was a miracle that Tra'aurg could restrain himself from revealing his position, and he remained in a stiff crouching position. It seemed they hadn't noticed him and that a compatriot of them was in danger.

"Blake!"


	3. Chapter 3, Pursuit

"They had ran off. They had ran off!"

Roriks stared in rage at the scene of the younglings running off along the deception he put down for them, and the plan he would have deceived the brute with! But Roriks was no fool, he could recognise the blame like only a true Eliksni captain, a lord, could, and it lay with himself.

Roriks closed his eyes, balling his fists, rage escaping in little breaths through subdued clicks. Yet a bile gripped his heart, holding his breath like a hand wrapped around his neck.

Roriks knew he should have charged out the moment they got out in the clearing, waving that flag he had made to fool the cabal, and then fool him twice! Roriks would "warn" the guardians of the hidden enemy and work together to kill him, after which he would entice them with rewards from the Reef for his safe return, and return with the looted remains of the fool. Roriks felt he should have been shot like a dreg for his hesitation. Unbecoming of him, dreg-like, a full captain, even though the excuses flooded his thoughts.

Disgusting. He felt he should cut off his arm for that, right here, right now!

How should he have known how to deal with this though? These were obviously not the usual guardians. They looked like dregs! In fancy clothing and weapons, prancing about in the forest like they were in a fairy tale! The moment he saw them he knew things were off. But they were still humans, and most likely guardians as well. He wasn't fooled by their age. Their unusual weapons clearly indicated unusual skills, dangerous skills. Younglings don't go around in forests with weapons for no reason! At least they were dangerous though, of that he was surr. An excuse yes, but a fact none the less. And so guardians, none the less.

"No matter," Roriks thought, clicking as his gaze remained fixed on the two trees they went between. Things could still go right. He likely had the trust of the brute now, and he could catch up with the guardians and betray the Cabal later. "Yes," Roriks noted. He could try to find and rescue their friend in need, create a safe negotiation situation and make a deal for a safe return, obviously just for himself.

Cabal wargear was state of the art, such scavenge couldn't be ignored. It was impossible already to steal it on Mars, such is the stuff of far away! Though how would he keep the Cabal close enough to kill and loot? He would notice if he was going to try to negotiate and it would be a waste to just leave him to die somewhere, and he wasn't as bold to convince the guardians to assist just so he could have something to bring back to the Reef.

Roriks waited for a few moments after the guardians had left, and wasted no time in picking up the centurion and convincing him to pursue. His assumption was correct: the Cabal was willing to defer to him for now, after curtly threatening him again. He seemed to believe the right opportunity hadn't arisen yet. Roriks supposed he himself would appear as the only clear path in the right direction, as the known and lone oppurtunist between them. Wonderful, though Roriks still had his worries.

Roriks felt he would have to do something about that moment of hesitation at a later time. It was a moment of weakness, and could have been his death if it were in a normal situation, amidst other more "ambitious" Eliksni. He would wake up the day after with their sabers in his neck.

Roriks feared what this would mean for himself and his position further down the road. Maybe he would have to act more decisively in the future, despite risk. Or find a way now to play better to unusual situations like these. There must be something to exploit. He will not fall back down the ladder.

And so Roriks found himself sneaking through the forest again, his weapons put away and his sharp sight weaving through the trees and foliage, following the vibrantly coloured guardians. Their scent was fresh, they didn't worry about their surroundings and they were careless, as they left obvious, though small, tracks. Maybe they were new recruits, and this was a proving ground of sorts. That would be bad.

Roriks was afraid he could be in a trial zone of the enemy, which would be very bad. The idea of trial was not alien to the Eliksni. Trials were closely overseen, as he observed during his time in prison, so Roriks thought he might have been noticed already. He might even be used right now, to test them. Though considering the lack of response when he did motion for communication with the cabal, there might be no trial, or at least one that's overseen.

Roriks discarded the far-fetched thought and looked behind him. While he himself tracked the guardians, Roriks had instructed the centurion to follow him from a distance with his radar equipment. Truly, the Cabal held desirable possessions. Roriks took the risk to trust the centurion to follow him, but he felt he had enough reason to. The centurion seemed to place his self-preservation above the notion of "For his empire", that much he gleaned from him in the short time he "worked" with him. And Roriks had plenty of experience of exploiting *that* base notion.

Roriks hunched over in his crouch, focussing on his tinkering. His lower arms held the final parts of a web mine. With deft movements he put the final parts in place, except for the pin that would arm and activate the trap. He would add that when the time came. The centurion knew of the trap as their ticket onto the guardians' ship, trapping the guardians in a spatial distortion so they could hijack their spacecraft. Roriks knew it as just that, a trap, for the centurion.

Roriks silently crouched further along a tree trunk to avoid a large bush that would cause a stir by its rustling. He could hear the centurion in the distance, pushing aside foliage and trampling branches of all sizes and sounds. As if he were still on an open battlefield, marching towards a stronghold.

A brute he is indeed, Roriks thought, rolling his eyes. He found it distasteful in comparison to himself. An Eliksni had no need for brute strenght. Sure it was nice to have it naturally, but it was just a weapon, easily acquired, like making a simple knife or pistol.

Roriks' patience was tested by the pursuit. He preferred to be back at the ether stores as soon as possible. As a captain, a reaver-marked at that, he still had plenty, enough for a maybe eight-tenth a venture, but he did not want to waste his breath too much on trying to get back. Even in back home, conservation was a neccesity. Hopefully, they would stop in a clearing, where the cabal could be fooled into thinking it a landing zone, so he would remain close to make a run for it when his "time" came.

Also, hopefully Roriks wouldn't surprise them too much, and hopefully the rescue would draw out long enough for Roriks to jump in and aid, after which he would quickly draw their attention to the cabal. Hopefully, a ship would indeed appear, holding the trust of the centurion for a precious few more moments. And hopefully his scavenge wouldn't be too damaged after the violence.

Many hopefuls, many hopes upon which his plan relied. It is hard to coördinate with so few factors to control. Such did not mean it would get simpler: Roriks was forced to play smarter with what he had. But what Eliksni wouldn't have to? To survive? To thrive?

"Enough of it!" Roriks thought. Roriks found that pondering and wondering was dulling his mind. He did not like that in any case. A waste of time, inefficient, dangerous.

Roriks saw a blonde speck in the distance, and Roriks was sure she waved her arms, after which they bolted into thicker growth. Shots were heard, and Roriks hallucinated he heard a familiar kind of, hammering, pounding pulses. They must be getting closer. Roriks pulled out a shock knife from beneath a thigh plate.

Thinking the centurion would understand signaling better than gestures, Roriks flashed his shock knife in quick succession. Hopefully he would understand what was going on. Roriks took off into a sprint, using his momentum to avoid hitting obstacles or to step lightly on noisy ground.

"This time...," Roriks clicked under his breath, the glasses of his mask on his quarry. He will be home soon, though Roriks couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be just, away from the Reef for a while.

In the distance, over the forest, far beyond what Roriks, Tra'aurg and Ruby co could see, birds could be seen bursting from the canopy, ascending in a smoke trail left by someone, pursued by frenzied howls and breaking branches.

Blake scrambled over the branches in the upper growth, alpha beowolves in tow below her, trying to surround her.

Blakepulled out gambol shroud and let off a few shots at her pursuers, but they seemed to miss wildly, or the beowolves just didn't show it. Blake tried to lead them away from her friends, but they proved to be hauntingly persistent in their pursuit. Blake could see them, flashing through in between the trees and bushes, left, right, behind her and maybe even aside her down below. She got especially scared when the branches thinned out downwards, and too many times when she passed, the wolves could jump high enough to graze her soles. But unnervingly, they didn't try.

The branches, they led Blake higher again. Blake thought up her plan. She could lose them by progressively moving higher up the trees, slowly getting out of their sight. Yes, that was what she was going to do, and when she saw the higher trees in the distance, Blake grit her teeth in anticipation, as she was already feeling the strain of her flight.

Blake was taken downwards again through the trees and the beowolves were progressively pursuing her more closely as she descended, something Blake noted with hard eyes.

Blake jumped for the next branch. She held onto it and quickly threw her self up when she felt her ankles only barely avoiding the touch of a jumping wolves' claw. A rile went over her back as she almost flew against the treetrunk, and she quickly climbed higher, relieved the growth was getting thicker.

She continued, Blake was almost there. She might be able to lose them by just fully moving along the crowns of the trees. Blake pounced and pounced, and as she saw the first tree she saw before looming before the others, Blake pulled out Gambol Shroud.

Blake noted one of the wolves in front of her was missing, no two. Blake paid no heed, just running with slightly sore hands.

The first tree, among the vastly bigger ones, loomed over the forest. There was a significant difference in height between the crown of the greater forest and the lowest branches of this tree.

Blake shot her sword at one of its thicker branches, which stung deep into the wood. Blake threw the other end of her weapon deep into the massive wooden pillar and jumped after her weapon.

The cleaver stuck not fully stable against the tree, but Blake quickly grabbed the rope and climbed up. As she feared, the initial throw weighed the thick branch down somewhat, and it fell off.

Blake was already somewhat far up the rope though, and as she fell, she pulled up both ends of Gambol Shroud into the canopy, where they seemed to be stuck safely enough for her to climb up.

As Blake finally pulled herself up into the tree, all the while panting and still feeling the adrenaline flowing like a breeze through her exposed arms, Blake recovered the ends of her weapon. She had made it.

Good, she thought. Blake reclined onto the thick branch, which was almost feeling cozy. She made it out, escaping alphas, which she couldn't quite believe, remembering professor Port's lessons.

"So, what now?" Blake said aloud, glazed eyes looking up at the web of leaves and branches above her. It was a little bit calming. The blue sky was visible through the canopy, which itself was dark because of the lack actual sunshine to give the leaves a golden edge. She quite liked this place, this moment. Too bad the forest was no place for reading.

Blake smiled. She turned her chin towards her chest, she supposed the tree had quite the view as well over the rest of the forest.

Blake's eyes widened.

Down below a lone Beowolf charged the tree Blake used to ascend, and it used its momentum to fly up the tree, clawing for branches while pulling and tearing its way up.

Blake sprung up, crawling against the tree. It couldn't possibly reach her right? No way, even if it jumped from the crown there was now way.

She saw it reach the crown, which was springing under its weight. But once there, it just stopped. A final growl or howl, then no howls, no growls. It just looked at her direction. It then raised its nose, its ears sprang up, it began looking around.

Blake stood up straight with her weapons in hand as she watched the grimm looking in every direction. It started shaking, then it growled, which disfigured into incessant howling. It seemed to go rabid, but controlled, only its head shaking rapidly.

Where could she go? She feared she wouldn't be able to outrun them again.

Blake looked downwards, tried to look around the tree trunk, then back to th-

The tree. Simultaneously with loud, explosive pulses it started shaking. Something was shot at the tree, hammering it with heavy impacts if the heavy shaking was any indication. Blake could keep her balance, but the tree started falling over towards the grimm.

In a moment of clarity it saw its opportunity, and instinctively jumped for the branch Blake was standing on. It managed to bite and grasp at the ends of the tree on Blake's level, but the tree was being pounded, irregularly shaking, until it stopped, and the tree went into free fall.

Blake stabbed Gambol Shroud into the tree, while the Alpha managed to throw itself up and get a better grip, but by now the tree was falling against the lower forest.

The grimm gripped what he could with burning hatred, but was discretely crushed by the mass of wood he was in between.

Blake quickly moved around the tree trunk to the opposite, upper side. She climbed up as high as she could, and when she reached as far as the thickness of the branches would take her, the tree had stopped falling, being held up by the smaller trees.

Blake looked at where the tree was supposedly chopped. Where the tree was halved, there were faint spots of purple, and it seemed it was melting or burning, but there was no sludge or smoke. The wood simply grew shorter the more the purple ate away at it.

Blake's face contorted lightly. Where did this- How did this happen? Who shot her out of the tree? Was it maybe that thing she saw? Back before the chas-

Blake turned and shot at the Alpha that pounced at her.

 **So, here I am with a new chapter to the story. Pardon me for being inconsistent, I am dealing with a depression with a history going far back, unresolved. Such it is, I suppose.**

 **Anyway, I am happy to see I am going forward with at least one thing, and most of all I'm so grateful to see reviews saying honest things. It helps, and most of all, I learning.**

 **In any case, business. With Destiny 2 coming out, I'm going to restrict the story plans to using lore from just the first Destiny, as Axis Destiny will only stretch that far in the foreseeable future. But on the other hand, Axis Destiny will go each of the complete RWBY volumes.**

 **I am quite excited. This is one of a few stories I'm working on. I'm planning on putting up a few more fanfics, working two to three at a time. It's also quite nice to see me writing. Nothing wrong starting off in the safe place of fanfics I suppose. With HAPPINESS.**

 **Now regarding critique, how was the story? I hope you're enjoying it, I like to believe the theme is Destiny's space opera, with all its inhabitants/characters, interacting with the deeper (in my maybe overanalysing opinion) anime adventure. I like to think I'm mixing the two somewhat balanced. Do help me learn, I am somewhat concerned regarding writing the characters, action scenes and thought exposition. I am really excited about writing the destiny characters.**

 **I love how the enemies of destiny have this specific archetype to them, each a type of extraterrestrial evil. Cabal are the evil alien imperialists, Fallen are space pirates, Vex seem to represent a lovecraftian-highly advanced evil, with the Hive on the other side representing the lovecraftian-space magic evil.**

 **I am especially hyped about Roriks, who as a captain, has a different look at life than the other ranks, connected only by their general culture characteristics. Dregs are suicidally ambitious, simple minded younglings who just want to have a chance at a different life. Vandals are the specialists who are beginning to fully taste Eliksni life seeing and learning about the galaxy and wanting climb up. And then there are the captains and Barons, who feel like lords among men, and should act like it, at least of they can afford it/ need to/ feel like it, maybe remembering their roots to varying degrees.**

 **Well happy reading I guess. And gib me smarts and cheers!**


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